And then you
by Dark K. Sly
Summary: There's a witch, and then there's a lot of feelings. Also, there's the tragic death of a Mug. Or the one where Derek needs to not only use his words, but learn to understand the words of other people.


It's all over.

All over, broken and irreplaceable, nothing could ever, _ever_ , bring it back again.

It's over. Dead. Never to come back.

He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, and he just couldn't bear it, he couldn't even look at it – everything they could have had together, every single thing they now will never, ever do.

All over, scattered in a million tiny pieces all over his floor, and he can't even _look_ at it. Oh, God, what had he done?

"Oh my _God_ , Derek, it's a freaking _mug_! I'll get you another when I come over tomorrow, okay? Geez."

Derek raises his eyes and stares at Isaac, who looks exasperated and angry, and… how is he supposed to fix this, anyway?

He can't fix anything.

He can only break stuff, just like he did with his mug and everything else in his life.

It's all over.

He looks down and a tear falls – he doesn't even have the strength to try and stop it.

"Isaac, you're not _supposed_ to talk like that to him! You _know_ he can't take it right now!" Scott's voice is firm and direct and he feels like crying even more, because he should have been like that – cared for his pack and his friends and the people he turned, but now Erica is gone, and Boyd is dead, and Cora doesn't want to stay with him, and Peter tried to kill them all before being killed by Argent, and—

\- it's just _too much_.

"Where's Stiles, anyway? He's the only one who can actually deal with him like this" Lydia snaps, throwing her hair over her shoulder, and Derek just wants to scream at them to go and leave him. Leave him alone, leave him in peace, because he can't _deal_ with them right now – he can't. He just can't.

How can he?

They hate him.

If it weren't for him, they wouldn't even _be_ here right now, in this kind of situation – what kind of _idiot_ asks a _witch_ for help?

Seriously, what had he been _thinking_ when he went to her, just because he found her name in Laura's diary?

Sure, first she had smiled fondly at him and then she had said that of _course_ she'd help them with the small _Dybbuk_ problem they had found themselves in. The thing was possessing one of the kids' classmates, and they didn't know how to get rid of it, because they had to _help_ it – otherwise, it'd just move on to another body if they, you know, killed the kid.

He had convinced Stiles to come with him, they asked for the help of the witch, she had agreed, and then she told him he needed to let other people know what was going on with him. Staring pointedly at Stiles, she told Derek he needed _to really let his feelings out_.

He had muttered a _sure_ , and that was that – nothing else to talk about in his opinion, right?

Sure. Because life is _that_ kind with him.

The very next day, things started getting weird. When Stiles told him to shut up, like he always did, Derek felt as if all the air in the room had disappeared. It _hurt_ that he was being dismissed so easily by someone he trusted do much, someone he… cared about that much. And then Isaac asked what was wrong, and _Oh my God, are we almost dying again? What did you do?_ And that had been _hell_ , because he knows, okay? He _knows_ he's no good for any of them, but he doesn't want to leave – they are his _pack_. It doesn't really matter that Scott is the Alpha now – he helped the kid get here, right? And Stiles, they saved each other so many times, and he had chosen Isaac himself, his first turned!

He cares about them, and all he wants is for them to care about him too, but he just… can't get anything right.

And, apparently, thanks to the witch, not only he puts them in danger at every turn, but he is also a burden they have to bear, with his constant _feelings_ flooding his every sense.

He was freaking _crying_ because _he broke a mug_.

And it isn't a special mug or anything – if it had been one of his mom's old mugs, or maybe something Laura had picked out he would even consider understanding what he is feeling, but that one? He picked that one at a store, because he had to get something to have coffee in. That's it.

 _Three days_ he's been like this, _three freaking days_ , and only this morning did Stiles seem to connect the dots and go after the witch, with her _feel more, Derek. Talk more, Derek._ Who does she think she is? His therapist?

He is annoying his pack – if he even could even _be_ called pack, anyway. Scott had never out right _said_ anything to him, and he could remember every single rejection the kid had put him through, and really, what is even holding him back here?

He'd be better off alone, anyway.

He knows what he told Scoot at the beginning, he _knows_ his chances of survival are minimal if he's off on his own, but survival doesn't really seem all that important to him right now.

Not anymore.

Not when every single thing he feels is being, what, amplified? Possibly. Probably.

He's never been really good with his feelings, because he feels _too much_. He's tried so hard to contain his feelings, his hatreds and loves and now he can't.

Derek takes a look around the room and sees Lydia staring at him calmly, analytically, as if she can tell what he's been thinking.

"You should go" he tells them quietly, and Scott snorts.

"Sure, because we're going to leave you here when you're bursting into tears because of a broken mug, Derek. Don't be stupid."

He recoils from the words as if they physically attack him with swords. Thing is that he is stupid, isn't he? Always has been. What with believing Peter about Paige needing to be turned, and believing Kate when she promised him she loved him so damn much, and with letting Laura come back here on her own, and then biting Jackson, who did the smart thing and ran away when he could, and believing Jennifer was harmless, and then trusting Peter back, and believing he would be enough for Cora to want to stay.

He takes a shuddering breath, trying to stop the tears from falling – he's not completely successful, but he can at least stop bawling long enough to convince them to leave, right?

"Just… go. Please" his voice is rough and he shakes his head, not even listening to what Isaac is trying to tell him. He really doesn't need to listen to them telling him he's stupid, or weak or unnecessary – he doesn't need them to _tell him_. He knows.

He fucking knows, okay?

It's not like he was a big fan of himself and his life choices before, but now, when he had to live with knowing – and feeling on his skin – what the others think of him, he just… can't deal with that.

They don't really move, and he has the feeling they are talking to him, but he doesn't want to _be here_ anymore.

So, when they are obviously refusing to leave, he turns his back on them, takes the steps two at a time and goes to his room in the loft – it used to be Isaac's, but then he threw him out, thinking he could protect him, and now it's no-one's.

Maybe Isaac will move back in when he leaves. He can do that, leave the loft to the kid. He screwed up his life, the _least_ he can do is leave him some place to live.

He lies down on the bed and closes his eyes, counting his breaths, trying to calm down.

Derek only notices he has fallen asleep when someone is shaking his shoulder, telling him to wake up.

"Come on, dude, I've got good news!"

He opens his eyes slowly, and stares at Stiles, who's leaning way too close to him for comfort, but he doesn't want to comment on it – out of all of them, Stiles is the one who doesn't seem to say the things that might actually make him want to cry or curl up in a ball and die. He doesn't want to break that pattern by being rude to the kid – kid may be a stretch, really, how are you going to call kid the guy who's saved you so many times, and is just as tall as you are?

Anyway, not the point.

"I sent the others away" he tells him calmly, "They stayed until I got here, they were worried."

His eyes sting again, and he sniffs a bit.

"I wasn't going to screw anything up for them."

"Dude, we _know_ that. They stayed because they were worried. About you, not anything else. They want you to be okay."

He doesn't answer to that, and Stiles sighs.

"Look, I talked to Matilde. Cool name, by the way, cool witch too, just, you know, with _no_ patience whatsoever. But, anyway, I talked to her" he pauses then, sitting on the bed carefully, bending one of his knees, his other foot on the floor, facing Derek.

If he reaches out, he can touch Stiles – but he won't.

"What do you think she did to you?"

He looks at the teen sideways, frowning.

"I don't know, Stiles. I just… I'm freaking out at _everything_. I'm not the kind of person who freaks out."

"Oh, I know that" Stiles mutters, but Derek keeps talking.

"I just… I can feel all the mistakes I've been doing. I can see everything that's wrong with me, I can see how much they want me gone, how much I'm not pack, how I'm never going to have a family, a home, ever again" he looks up then, not really meaning too, but Stiles's eyes are so honest and open, and he wants to see that him, at least _him_ , doesn't want him gone so fast, "I can see that they… they hate me. I kind of… I hate myself too. I made all your lives so much harder, and I get why all of you would want me gone, but I can't… deal with that. I've never liked myself all that much, but now that I know how you guys feel about me, I'm starting to _really_ hate myself, and I…" he doesn't finish, his voice thick with tears.

"Oh my God, and they say _Scott_ has trouble understanding things. Okay, first of all?" Stiles starts, his voice angry and serious, and Derek looks down again – he can't take this. Not from Stiles, "The witch didn't curse you with some empathy thing, Derek. She cursed you to feel your _own_ feelings. All of that, all that crap about _us_ hating you and your choices? Not true. We are not blaming you for anything right now, we don't hate you, we don't judge you for your choices – not anymore, not now. We don't blame you, Derek – _you do_. All those crappy things you're feeling? They are _your_ feelings, not ours. You are the one thinking all that crap about not being pack or whatever! Dude, we'd all be dead if it weren't for you."

"No, Stiles, you'd all be living werewolf-free if it weren't for me."

The teen huffs at him and shakes his head.

"Isaac, maybe. Who would still be living with his asshole of a father. But the rest of us? Scott got bitten before you even got into town. Peter would have bitten me too, you know that – he offered, and I don't think he would take no for an answer – he sure as hell didn't this time around. Jackson would still have asked for it as soon as Scott made him realize what was going on, and Lydia would have been dragged into it right along with him. Do you think I would _want_ Peter as my Alpha? How long do you think I would have lived with him around, Derek? Without you there to, you know, protect and save my ass? You made mistakes, there's no denying that, but you tried your best, and you always came through, and you forgave a whole lot too, to be able to be here, to _want_ to be in Scott's pack in the first place, after all he's done to you – and I _know_ he did a lot. Just by that stunt he pulled with Gerard I don't think _I_ would have forgiven him, and I've been his best friend for _years_ " he stops then, looking earnest and younger for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again, his voice quieter and all the more serious for it, "You _matter_ , Derek. We… _I_ care about you."

He takes in a deep breath at that, looking into Stiles's eyes and down again.

"Then what's the point of this stupid curse, anyway? Make me realize how much I hate my life, and my choices, and… _me_ , in general? Because I could have lived without that."

"No" the teen answers, looking embarrassed and fidgeting on the bed, "She just… saw something. She didn't even realize what a mess you were then – I don't think any of us did, really, because you're so good at being, you know, strong and quiet and dark and brooding. She just…" he swallows thickly, and blushes – _honest to God_ blushes and doesn't go on, but now Derek's curiosity is piqued.

"She just what?"

Stiles turns his eyes heavenward, as if asking for patience.

"She just thought she saw something. You know. Between us. The two of us. And she thought we were, you know, denying it? So she tried to make you… think about it. This wasn't supposed to make you miserable; it was supposed to make you see you love me. That you want me. That you are truly, madly deeply in love with me, that you'll be my wish, my dream, my fantasy."

"Did you just quote a 90s pop ballad at me?"

Stiles sputters at that, and glares at him.

"Did you just ignore the part where a witch cursed you so you'd realize you like me to discuss my music taste?!"

Derek looks down, then, feeling _himself_ blush this time.

"I never said I didn't like you. At the beginning, maybe, but I… It's just…"

"Was she wrong?" Stiles asks then, his voice serious, forcing Derek to stare at him again, "Just… answer me this, was she wrong?"

He swallows hard and, not quite trusting his voice, nods at the sheets under him, not facing Stiles anymore, because he can't.

"Oh my God, you're just so… _infuriating_!"

Stiles grabs a hold of his T-shirt and pulls him in, crashing his mouth on Derek's with such force that Derek winces, but doesn't pull away. Derek – and the whole pack, really – knows Stiles doesn't have a lot of experience, but he lets the teen dictate the pace of the kiss, and he pulls away soon after, staring at Derek, as if expecting him to throw him out, or deny any and all feelings for him.

"I like you too. I like you a _lot_. The pack likes you. Scott has the red eyes, but we still look up to you to know what to do. You keep us together, and you keep us focused on what we have to do, and doesn't allow this pack to become a mess of _how to get Allison back_ or is _Lydia's new boy-toy going to turn into a psychopath and when_ club. We _need_ you. We _respect_ you" he pauses then, taking Derek's hand in his, and placing it right over his heart, staring straight into Derek's eyes, not letting any room for doubt in his next words, "We love you. Me more than the others, but…" he trails off, shrugging, his heart beating fast and hard – not because of a lie, but because he's so nervous right now, and Derek just… can't anymore.

He grabs Stiles by the neck and brings him in and over him, causing the teen to squeak and almost fall, but he's right there to catch him and bring him close, and kiss him like he is _meant_ to be kissed – with his whole soul into it, lips meeting warmly, and Derek bites his bottom lip, because, apparently, he _can_ , and then soothing it away with a lick of his tongue, and biting softly on his neck, and Stiles just puts his arms around his neck, and hugging him tight, as if he's afraid of letting him go.

He hugs Stiles back, and they stay like that for a minute – as long as Stiles can stay still, really – before speaking again.

"Are you feeling better now?"

Stiles's voice is a bit muffled by his own skin, and he grins, hiding it in Stiles neck, and thinking about it – his emotions are muted, somehow. Not gone, just… quieter. He can think about the mug he broke without crying now. And there's a bright, fuzzy and warm feeling now inside his chest, and he has a feeling that as long as Stiles is willing to be there to keep it safe, this feeling won't be going away any time soon.

"I'm fine" he whispers, tightening his hold around Stiles, making him squeak again, and hit him on the back.

And the most wonderful thing is that he actually is fine.

As fine as he can ever be – and now? That's a lot.

 **X**

The next morning, when he comes down next to an almost asleep Stiles, there's a new mug on the kitchen counter.

 _Member of the wolf Pack_ it reads on the front, and he closes his eyes.

He's never living this down.


End file.
